


The Way She Moves

by rbcch



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, I don’t fucking know what this is, I just really love tour fics, It’s another bots fic, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, This is, bottom Violet, but you can play a game of spotting shitty puns based on queens’ names, in drag, that’s it, that’s the whole fic, there’s plenty I can assure you, they just talk and have sex and Pearl stares a Lot, top Pearl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-05 17:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12799335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rbcch/pseuds/rbcch
Summary: And there has been an enormous amount of fascinators in Pearl’s life. He’s been fascinated by smoke rings one of his flings exhaled when they passed joints between them after sex. He’s been fascinated by starry skies one can only see when the nearest city is miles away and forgotten. He’s been fascinated by the way the fragmented rays of sunshine have danced on his skin through the window glass still covered in droplets of rain. He’s been fascinated by the way music, lights, alcohol, all of it has pulsed through his body when he’s drunk and high and lost himself on the dance floor.Oh, Pearl has been fascinated by a lot of things in his life, but the way Violet moves is by far the most magical.Or, Pearl is drunk, high, and in love.





	The Way She Moves

**Author's Note:**

> Or, Pearl and Violet smoke a joint and shamelessly shag in a public restroom.  
> Or, the one with the unnecessarily long prologue before the smut.
> 
> Look at me hopping right back on that Pearlet train like I wasn’t rolling naked in the sheets with another ship three seconds ago lmao. This is a result of multiple factors all melted into one incoherent mess: weird idea of Pearl being fascinated by Violet moving that came to me once when I was high on anesthesia (not a good high), a huge fucking writer’s block (definitely not my favourite thing that begins with a “huge fucking” and ends with a “-ock”), and someone requesting smutty Pearlet on AQ.
> 
> This is basically Violet being a total bitch, Pearl adoring the shit out of her, but showing it mostly by snapping at her, and a poorly written sex scene. You’ve been warned, don’t come for me.
> 
> TW - this fic does discuss smoking weed in more detail than any of my previous works, so if you for some reason don’t want to read about that, this is not for you. Also yes I’m aware not everyone thinks sex while high is all that amazing but cmo now have you tried it While having a proper head high? No? Good, me neither :)
> 
> She/her for Violet and all the queens except for Detox, he/him for Pearl.

The thing about Pearl is, he’s a spectator by nature. Has always been, really. Sure, he doesn’t mind the attention, likes to get an appreciative look from a guy, a free drink and a flirty smirk across the bar from another, but he’s never really needed more than that. He’s never wanted all eyes on him, quite frankly, always found that kind of scrutinising unnerving and undesired. Pearl has always been alright somewhere on the sidelines, balancing on the borders of moments and not in the centre of them.

Another thing about Pearl is, he is easily fascinated. He’s the kind of person who can spend hours upon hours staring at the next thing that has caught his attention, his lips slightly parted, or teasing his lower lip, his eyes fixed on whatever he finds mesmerising in that very moment as if his life depends on noticing every single detail, every small dimension, as if he needs to memorise everything about it in order to survive. And there has been an enormous amount of fascinators in Pearl’s life. He’s been fascinated by smoke rings one of his flings exhaled when they passed joints between them after sex. He’s been fascinated by starry skies one can only see when the nearest city is miles away and forgotten. He’s been fascinated by the way the fragmented rays of sunshine have danced on his skin through the window glass still covered in droplets of rain. He’s been fascinated by the way music, lights, alcohol, all of it has pulsed through his body when he’s drunk and high and lost himself on the dance floor. 

Pearl has been fascinated by all of those things, by a lot of other things too. And right now, he finds himself fascinated by yet another thing.

He couldn’t really explain it even if he tried, or maybe he very well could. It’s pretty much everything about it. It’s her soft angles, her perfect flaws, her plain and human divinity. It’s how smooth and effortless it is, so flowing, so right. It’s like sand in an hourglass, like an ocean gently licking at the shore, like the peaceful horizon right before the storm. It’s majestic, magnetic, so perfect that sometimes Pearl catches himself suspecting there’s a skilful puppeteer behind all of it, that’s how unreal it seems and feels. 

Oh, Pearl has been fascinated by a lot of things in his life, but the way Violet moves is by far the most magical.

The club is a little bit too full, the music a little bit too loud, the lights a little bit too bright and hot, the drinks a little bit too strong, the smell of sweat nixed with the sweetness of weed and the bitterness of alcohol a little bit too stinging, the people a little bit too intoxicated. Pearl can feel it all on his skin, or maybe under it, crawling up his body like an itch he can’t scratch, a hunch he can’t quite catch, a ghost of something he can’t really place. He’s buzzing from all the alcohol he’s consumed  combined with the remains of adrenaline from performing, yet he feels oddly calm from that joint they shared with Adore earlier. It’s the kind of intoxication where he’s simultaneously very aware of everything that’s going on around him yet he’s not sure what’s going on at all; his senses at their sharpest yet so dull he feels almost numb. It’s like a feeling one gets at a rave or a concert, when the darkness is interrupted by a heartbeat of the brightest lights: total darkness, bright lights, total darkness, bright lights, over and over again, and one is left guessing what's going on in the darkness based on those snippets of light.

He is sort of aware of other queens’ whereabouts. He’s aware of Courtney on his right, surrounded by a group of suitors at the counter. He’s aware of Phi Phi, trying to keep Sharon in an upright position, Phi Phi’s hand on Sharon’s hip and Sharon’s head on Phi Phi’s shoulder. He’s aware of Michelle and Lasky occupying a booth somewhere on his left, Michelle looking disturbingly like a proud mother and Alaska examining her perfectly painted nails with unimpressed and disinterested expression written all over her face, but Pearl knows it’s just a show. He’s somewhat aware of all of them, but he’s really concentrated on one thing only  — Violet on the dance floor just few feet away from him.

Pearl is standing at the bar, leaning his elbows on the counter, the synthetic hair of his blonde wig thrown completely over his left shoulder, tangled and knotted into a mess resembling Alaska’s hours ago. He should be hurting, he knows he should. The wig cap should feel too tight around his head, the six inch heels should be killing his feet, the bones of his corset should be sinking into his skin painfully, the tuck should at least make him shift uncomfortably if nothing else, but he guesses he’s too tipsy to feel any of it, He is absent-mindedly chewing the straw, the drink itself long forgotten, the ice melted under his hot touch, watering vodka down into a sad excuse of a liquid escape it once was.

Pearl’s heavy-lidded eyes are glued to Violet, and he’s unable to take them off of her, hypnotised by the way her body moves. He’s fascinated, and he’s going to tirelessly study her until he finds a new thing to be fascinated by, like he’s always done. He’s always been a butterfly, exchanging one beautiful flower for another, more beautiful one without a second thought, always distracted by something more colourful, more vibrant, more alluring, always chasing after _better_ and _more_ and _faster_ and _harder_. Always unsatisfied, up until, well, now.

It hasn’t been until now that he finds himself thinking that he doesn’t want to find anything else.

Pearl finds it ironic, yeah? Of all the flowers, he was captured by a violet. Not some exotic, rare thing  with colours just outside one’s imagination. No, it was something as pure and simple and plain as a violet and he was _fascinated_.

He studies her perfect figure. She’s decided to wear a dress tonight, and it’s hugging her fragile slender body flawlessly, and she looks divine in Pearl’s eyes. And then the way she moves. The way she leans into Katya to whisper something in her ear, her back arched just a little and her hand brought to her mouth. The way she laughs when Katya responds to her, her head thrown back just a tiny bit, her long neck exposed, and her palm resting on her flat chest. The way she considers the crowd when Katya brings her closer and grabs her waist, pointing at something and speaking quickly; Violet furrows her brow and chews her lip in response, popping her hip and resting her hand there now, then breaks into a goofy smile. The way she twirls her tongue around the straw in her drink, then closes her lips around it slowly and bats her eyelashes at no one  in particular, like she’s teasing the air around her. The way she lets Katya spin her into a wild dance that makes people around them look over their shoulders and move away to make more room for them. The way she cackles when Katya lifts her by her waist and pirouettes round and round, sending Violet’s long legs flying. The way she slides down Katya’s body when she finally puts her down on the ground, rubbing her ass against Katya’s front in time with the music.

Every single one of Violet’s movements is calculated, perfect, like she could make no mistake, take no misstep, do no wrong. She’s like melted chocolate being poured into layers upon layers with a flow just intense enough, and Pearl can’t stop staring.

The thing about Violet is, she is nothing Pearl wanted, yet somehow she’s become everything he’ll ever need.

“She’s quite something, isn’t she?” someone asks  just loud enough to be heard over the music on his left. He knows it’s Jinx without looking, but even if he didn’t he wouldn’t turn to look, wouldn’t take is eyes off of Violet even for a split second, wouldn’t risk missing a thing she does.

 _She’s everything_ , he wants to say, but he’s afraid he’s gonna sound like a lovesick puppy. She’s circled Katya now, sliding one of her palms up the blonde’s fit upper body, her other hand still firmly holding her drink, and swinging their hips from side to side, their bodies pressed together.

“Uh-huh,” he says, taking a sip of his vodka water Redbull.

The song changes to a more upbeat one, and the crowd has recovered from their initial shock caused by Katya and Violet’s dance moves, so people are moving closer to them, dancing with them, trying to touch them, bodies against bodies, girls who want to sleep with them, guys who want to be them, or maybe it’s exactly the other way around, Pearl’s not sure anymore, has lost the borders between sex and gender and sexuality and orientation years ago. Katya is now bent over in the middle of the most ridiculous dance move Pearl has ever seen, but somehow it works for her, somehow she makes it look kind of sexy and compelling. Her ass is connected with Violet’s crotch, and Violet is leaning back slightly, grabbing Katya’s hip with one hand and raising her drink above herself with another like a common white girl wasted that she never was and never will be. She’s lost herself in the music, her eyes closed and her head turning from side to side to the beat of yet another top chart hit.

Pearl pinches his lip between his perfectly manicured press-on nails, captivated by the way Violet’s high ponytail swings with a tiny delay to her movements. He loves all the hairstyles she wears, but the ponytail with the bangs is his favourite, mainly because it’s so easy to wrap around his fist and pull. She’s still grinding against Katya’s ass, seemingly still consumed by the loud bass and bodies surrounding her, but suddenly she opens her eyes and finds Pearl’s gaze. They stare at each other for a second, neither of them really showing that they acknowledge the other’s scrutiny, and then her red lips quirk into a playful smirk. She arches her perfect eyebrow and grinds her hips against Katya again, extremely slowly and carefully this time, and oh. Oh. Oh, the bitch is fully aware of what she’s doing. The bitch has been purposefully riling him up all along.

Well if that’s the game she wants to play, that’s the game she’ll get.

Pearl grabs Detox who’s just passing him and stops him, eyes still fixed on Violet.

“What’s up, bitchtits,” Detox screams over the music. Pearl just shoots him a quick smile and focuses on Violet again.

She licks her lips and tugs on the fabric of Katya’s dress, urging her to straighten up. Pearl pulls Detox closer by his bicep, arching an eyebrow at Violet. Violet  turns Katya around and fits one of her legs between Katya’s, winking at Pearl. Pearl wraps one of his around Detox, pulling him even closer to himself. Detox leans into him with a chuckle and a little _Hi, Mattie_ against his skin. Violet slides down Katya’s body, making sure to rub as much of Katya as she possibly can. Pearl brings his mouth on Detox’s neck and nibbles his earlobe gently, his head tilted so that he can contain his eye contact with Violet. Violet slides back up and places a long lick up Katya’s neck. Pearl moves his mouth from Detox’s ear to his lips and kisses him, his eyes still wide open and locked with Violet’s.

“What the fuck, Matt,” Detox snarls pulling away from Pearl and  slapping his bicep gently. He turns to follow Pearl’s gaze, and a mixture of realisation and disbelief spreads all across his face when he turns back to him.

“Did you two cunts just use me in your sick little foreplay?” he gags. Pearl just shrugs with a chuckle. “You two are fucking twisted as fuckward. I’m outta here.”

Violet whispers something to Katya, and Katya nods and slaps her ass as Violet turns to leave the dance floor. She strolls toward Pearl without any rush whatsoever, and all Pearl can think of is some bullshit such as _the world is her runway_ and _the devil wears Prada and nada and apparently the skin of a very exquisite drag queen_ and _she’s bombdiggity, pure bombdiggity_ and _the sex would surely be mind-blowing_ and _wait, I’ve had sex with her and_ it is _mind-blowing_ , and none of it really makes sense, but it kind of does in Pearl’s tipsy, stoned brain.

“Hi, baby,” she mouths at him as she stops in front of him and takes his hand, then lifts their arms and steps backwards until his is outstretched in the air. She smiles coyly and spins around, moving patiently and  gradually, like she knows what her body does to him. He studies her hungrily, takes in the way she crosses her legs as she turns just to uncross them in order to regain  her balance, the way she sways her hips, the way she stretches her neck and rolls her shoulders, the way she carries herself.  She does a full turn and steps closer to him again, leaning past him to put the glass she’s been holding this whole time on the counter. Then she silently takes his from him and puts it next to hers, gently pushing him against the counter and positioning herself between his legs. She  grabs his shoulder and trails her finger down his nose, then his lips, pressing down on his lower one a bit.

“Are you done?” he asks her. She’s close enough to hear him without shouting.

“Are you?” she says with a smirk.

“Quite.”

“Good,” she purrs and her voice is deep mahogany dripping in a thick layer of honey. “Now get me the hell out of here.”

Pearl is not sure if _here_ refers to this dirty, overfilled club, or this nameless city that is nothing but a tiny pitstop in a string of identical nameless cities night after night, or this state in the middle of the country where the fashion is bad but people’s hearts are good, or this tour that has become a routine all of them love to hate: wake up in a new nameless city, get ready for the show, perform, go out, drunkenly stumble into the bus, don’t forget Sharon, make sure none of Courtney’s boy toys is on the bus, hit the road, pass out, wake up in a new city over and over and over again like it’s a game of Russian roulette but instead of bullets they’re revolving a cylinder full of empty chambers, or this situation they both fought so hard to end up in, and now that they have, neither of them really knows what to do with it: she’s a winner, baby, she’s _the_ winner, and he’s her runner-up, the dazzle to her shine, the most beautiful pearl to her crown, her biggest admirer. She’s the sun and he’s a star lucky enough to exist in the same constellation as her. 

 _Get away from the sun_ , people have told him, _it’s blocking your own shine_. 

 _No star will shine with a broken heart_ , he’s told them in response.

Eventually Pearl settles on this very spot, this disgusting counter that has seen better days, countless spilled drinks, and probably more asses than any counter should have to. He interlaces their fingers and how very silly it is, but hers fit in the spaces between his just perfectly, and he’s had over a year to touch every inch of her body and still holding her hand sends little shivers down his spine.

Violet lets him guide her through the crowd, everyone around them too wasted to pay them any attention. He heads for the far left corner of this god forsaken facility, pushing open the door to the restroom and closing it behind her. Here the music is nothing but a violent beat of the bass that is more vibrations of the air than it is sound.

It’s not the cleanest restroom he’s ever seen, but it’s not the dirtiest, either. It’s kinda gloomy with its tile floor and walls, two stalls, row of urinals, and single sink with a cracked and fogged mirror above it. It’s kinda desperate and ugly in a way where it doesn’t try to hide or deny it, in a way that is upfront about inevitable decay everyone else is so busy trying to avoid or forget.

“Really?” Violet sneers. “A public restroom? Real classy, Pearly.”

“What do you know about class, Vi? You’re a whore,” he says lowly.

“I’m one of those classy ones,” she chuckles. “One that makes you pay for dinner before sex.”

“Well that explains a lot,” Pearl says with a straight face and she laughs. He joins her shortly, and their laughter ricochets off the broken surfaces of this hollow space.

He leads her to a windowsill opposite the door and helps her hop on it next to a sad lonely plant in a brown pot. He guesses it’s there to make it all somehow more bearable, but all it really does  is just accentuate the sadness of this place. She instantly spreads her legs to make space for him and leans her back against the window behind her. Pearl hopes to god it’s tinted on purpose and not by something he’d rather not think of.

He reaches into his top and pulls out a joint. Violet thins her lips in a way that suggests she’s not completely pleased with the sight.

“Chill, bitch,” Pearl drawls, tumbling through his top for the lighter. “It’s Alaskan so it’ll only make it feel better and last longer.”

There’s a spark in her eyes and a dark smile on her lips, the epitome of how controversial everything about her is. “So no San Fran all over again?”

“No San Fran,” he assures her, handing her the lighter and taking time to gently straighten the joint between his fingers after it’s been smashed somewhere between his bra and his corset for hours. “Although that was a fucking awesome body high now that I think of it.”

“You know what wasn’t awesome, bitch?” she says, flicking the lighter playfully. “Getting to spend a night in a fucking hotel after a week of dry humping you on  the middle bunk right across from fucking Michelle Visage and thinking, ‘ _God, I’ll finally get fucked properly tonight, in a real bed, without Ginger under me and Fame on top of me_ ’ and fucking finding you in that very same bed so baked you couldn’t even lift your finger, let alone get your dick up.”

He laughs and taps the filter against the back of his hand, “That was one tine, bitch. _One time_.”

“Are we really gonna pretend that was the only time you couldn’t get it up?”

“Shut up or I’ll fuck you quiet,” he growls at her before placing the joint between his lips.

She rolls her eyes, unimpressed by his bullshit, “So I should just keep talking?”

He sighs in exasperation and takes the lighter from her. She brushes the tips of her fingers against his bare wrist while he lights up, inhaling shallowly and sharply a couple of times before taking the first proper drag. It’s like a good long stretch after a transatlantic flight, yet it’s something completely else. He can feel it everywhere in his body, in the muscles on his back tense after hours in heels, in his shoulder blades, somewhere in the back of his head, tingling under his fingertips. It’s so relaxing but it’s not dulling, the dominance of sativa evident  without a doubt.

Violet studies him with a mysterious smile on her lips for the first three or four drags, but when Pearl inhales yet another lungful, she shifts and sits up from where she was leaning against the glass. She hooks her index finger wordlessly and Pearl moves closer. She pulls him in by the straps of his top so that they’re face to face, and suddenly the moment is charged with something that equal parts excites and scares Pearl. Their lips almost touching, Violet parts hers slightly, and Pearl follows suit, placing his hands on her waist carefully not to burn her and exhaling slowly as she starts to inhale just as unhurriedly.

He takes half a step back when there’s no smoke left in his lungs and tilts his head a little. In that moment, she is a fucking living, breathing work of art, and he’s overwhelmed by the fact that of all the people he’s  privileged enough to be the only one to witness it. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and she closes them, resting her palms against the chipped white of the windowsill and relaxing her shoulders, shamelessly throwing her head back. It’s sinful, the way the smoke escapes her red lips, and he wants to capture it. He wants to paint it with brushes or his fingers, he wants to fill pages with poetry and prose about her, he wants to sculpt until he’s perfected the sharpness of that jawline and the softness of those lips in every single one of his works, he wants to create her over and over and over again and never change a thing about her, but all he ends up doing is sucking on the joint desperately, like it’s the only thing to keep him grounded. Which is ironic, because it’s doing the exact opposite.

Pearl takes another deep drag and Violet pulls him in again, leaving her hands on his shoulders. This time he  grabs the side of her neck with his unoccupied hand and smashes their lips together, the red of her lipstick staining the nude of his as he blows the smoke into her mouth. She holds it in until he taps her neck lightly with his finger, and kisses another cloud of smoke off his lips. They smoke the rest of the joint like this, stealing kisses and smoke from each other between drags until the spaces separating their bodies are mere voids without oxygen.

Pearl stubs out the joint in the pot, a fate he’s sure this plant has and will endure more than once. He’s even more heavy-lidded than he was before, and Violet is looking at him with dreamy eyes and a lazy smile on her lips.

Pearl loves all about Violet. He doesn’t really have a Violet he prefers, or a Violet he’d rather not deal with. He loves her when he gets to kiss the sleep off her features in the morning, and she’s pulling funny faces at his morning breath and kind of pushing him away in disgust, but not really. He loves her when she’s bratty and throwing a temper tantrum because he forgot her juice, which happens considerably less often than people seem to imagine. He loves her when she’s breathless, sliding down on his dick, and he can reach out to brush her sweaty curls out of her face, and she’s never looked more beautiful in his eyes. He loves her when she’s overthinking, overdoing, over-perfecting everything into a state of overheating. He loves her regardless, or maybe due to.

But if he had to choose, this would be his favourite Violet. Violet that smiles at him like a cat who got the cream, Violet who is completely relaxed, completely calm, and just a tiny bit out of it. He only gets this Violet in two cases: when she gets high, or after a slow fuck. High Violet is his fucking favourite, and he’s planning on enjoying every bit of her, even if it is a second-hand high that probably is way milder than Pearl’s and will wear off twice as fast.

Pearl slowly, finger by finger, wraps his hands around the sides of her thighs and yanks her to the edge of the windowsill. She giggles and wraps her limbs around him, locking their lips and pushing her tongue inside his mouth. She tastes of cranberry and of something that isn’t a hint of vodka because he’s been taught that vodka doesn’t have a taste. He opens his mouth more, lets her explore it and slides his palms up her smooth skin, sliding them under the hem of her dress, higher and higher, until he reaches what should be the lace of her panties and is met with more smooth skin.

“Where the fuck is your underwear?” he pants into her mouth.

Violet lets out a low laugh like a little piece of shit cocktease that she is, “I must’ve lost it somewhere.”

Pearl groans loudly and sinks his long nails into the bare skin of her hips, “I want you so fucking bad right now.”

After that remark he finds himself pressed against the thin wall of one of the stalls, Violet’s hot lips on his neck and her hand blindly tumbling the lock. Pearl feels the beat of the bass shake the wall behind him, and he feels her body pressed against him from neck to toe, and maybe it’s the weed, or maybe it’s the cranberry still lingering on his tongue, or maybe it’s the scent of her hairspray, sickly sweet and heavy, he doesn’t really know, but suddenly it’s too much stimuli all at once and it’s kinda overwhelming in a way where he loses the lines between himself and the things that make him feel.

“Just fucking leave it,” he drawls out and lazily pushes her against the opposite wall. The stall is so small that it only takes them a step and a half. Violet mumbles something incoherent in protest and Pearl hears the lock finally click as he presses a sloppy kiss on her mouth, both of their lipsticks smudged into a mess of reddish nude and a memory of once sharp liner.

“This restroom is suspiciously quiet,” Violet breathes out when he moves his lips alongside her jawline and under her ear.

“Whatever,” he says, pulling her ponytail gently to get her to move her head and expose more skin for him. “I wanna blow you.”

Violet purrs out a mixture of plea and demand to do so, because she’s literally the only person Pearl knows who can manage to be demanding while pleading for the life of her, and he sinks to his knees without hesitation. The cold tiles are nasty and uncomfortable under his stocking-clad legs, but the happy sigh Violet lets out at a sight of him in front of her makes Pearl forget all about it. What do bruised and numb knees matter if he can elicit even one more blissful sound out of her?

He slides her dress up slowly and carefully, knowing how much pride she takes in her outfits and not wanting to damage the garment in any way. He leaves it rolled on her stomach, the dress too tight to slide down on its own, and presses a trail of kisses on her inner thigh.

“I’m gon’ untuck you now,” he drawls.

“Please,” she says, and again, it’s more of a command than it ever was a plea.

“It might hurt,” he says spreading her legs with his hand.

“Oh my god, bitch, I’ve done this for a wee while, I know how untucking fucking works,” he can hear her eyeroll in her voice. “Just get that fucking piece of tape off of me.”

Pearl never really knows how to go about it, alternates between ripping it off with one firm and quick movement and removing the tape slowly, trying to pull as little skin as possible in the process, or not really bothering to tuck at all in the first place if his outfit allows it. He aims for the slow and careful, which makes Violet impatiently tap the wall behind her with her palm.

“For fuck’s sake, Pearl,” she urges him. Okay, one firm movement it is then. He rips the tape off, and she grunts but shows no other signs of discomfort.

He loosely wraps his hand around her cock and massages gently, more to soothe her after hours of such a tight tuck than anything else, but her response is instant and eager. She closes her eyes with another small sigh and rests her head against the wall, rocking her hips into his slack hold lightly. Pearl tightens his grip and looks at her with a new wave of fascination. Violet’s breath is already sharp and shallow, and she’s dragging her nails on the wall as if looking for something to sink them into. He shifts his gaze from her face to her cock, already quite hard and so gorgeous, and the sight makes the insides of his stomach turn and tighten with lust. He draws his thumb over the tip of her cock, swiping away little drops of precome, and pops the thumb into his mouth, sucking the remains of her salty taste off of it. When he looks up, Violet has opened her eyes and is staring at him with awed expression.

“Pearl,” she chokes out breathlessly and that’s all the encouragement he could ever need.

Pearl leans in and wraps his hand around the base of her cock and his mouth around the tip of it. Violet curses through  clenched teeth above him, and he teases her with his tongue before closing his lips tighter around her and taking her deeper into his mouth. She lets out something Pearl isn’t sure is even English and thrusts forward, hitting the back of his throat and making him back off in surprise.

“Can you just fucking stay still for like two minutes and not be in control for once?” he drawls out looking at her through the two pairs of 301’s he borrowed (stole) from Katya(’s suitcase) earlier and swiping saliva from the corners of his mouth.

“No,” she says but slumps back against the wall and makes a great show of being completely still.

“You’re allowed to fucking breathe, you absolute fucking…” Pearl sighs.

She lets out a breath she was holding and crosses her arms on her chest with a sarcastic expression, “Why, thank you, sir. Will you finally do something useful with that mouth of yours now, or do I have to suck my own dick?”

“I’d like to see you fucking try,” Pearl mumbles under his breath with an eyeroll, but reassumes his position in front of Violet.

This time he places his other hand on her hip, and that makes her scoff, but it’s kinda followed by a snort, so he  knows she doesn’t really mind. He starts pumping her base as he places long, hungry licks up her shaft, and she reaches out and collects his hair into her fist on top of his head to keep it out of his face. Pearl stops to play with her tip for a while, twirling his tongue around and pressing light kisses on her skin, knowing damn well that the weed has only made the already delicate area so much more sensitive. The way Violet keeps tugging on his wig confirms his suspicions.

“Pearly, please,” Violet whimpers hoarsely and usually Pearl would savour a moment like this, would tease Violet until she’s a needy, begging wreck above him, miles and lightyears and lifetimes away from that cold collected perfection she shows to the world, but he’s becoming a little bit impatient and a lot horny himself, so he wraps his lips around her again and moves his mouth on her length, using his fist to cover what he can’t otherwise reach. She is heavy on his tongue, and he can taste her slightly bitter pre-cum somewhere in the back of his mouth, and it’s doing things to him that make his tuck twitch hard in his tiny shorts he regrets wearing tonight.

It is a sloppy blowjob, in more ways than just one. He means, it’s fucking _sloppy,_ but he’s also too intoxicated for it to be his peak performance. Violet doesn’t seem to mind or notice, though, if the little sighs and gasps she lets out are any indication. Pearl relaxes his throat and lets go of her hip, and Violet stares down at him with her eyes full of something that could be interpreted to b either a question or a silent prayer, Pearl’s not sure. He just hums around her cock, and she pushes her hips forward tentatively, as if still asking for permission. Pearl just bats his (Katya’s) lashes at her and tries to keep his muscles relaxed and his teeth out of the way. Violet lets out a long moan and starts rocking her hips forward.

It doesn’t take long fr her movements to become more confident, and she leans forward, outstretching her hand and pressing her palm against the opposite wall to support herself. Her other hand moves to the back of Pearl’s head, still violently gripping most of his hair, and the way he can’t really move when she does that, the way he pretty much has to stay still and take it, let her fuck his face with all that vigour and passion, it’s so hot and its driving him bloody mad. It is far from comfortable for him: there are actual tears streaming down his face, smudging his liner and mascara, his jaw hurts like a motherfucker, and he can’t really feel his knees or legs anymore, but Violet keeps filthily and almost manically chanting his name like it’s the solution to every single one of her problems, and that alone makes it all worth his while. He pushes one of his hands between his legs, palming his tuck in attempt to feel even a fracture of the friction he needs so badly.

Suddenly Violet pulls out of his mouth completely and slams back against the wall. Pearl whines, unhappy about the loss of contact, and makes a little grabby gesture in her general direction.

“I fucking can’t,” Violet says, completely out of breath.

“Huh?” Pearl asks, touching his jaw to check if he’s dislocated it. Seems like he hasn’t..

“I can’t,” Violet repeats. “Gonna come, not like this, need you now.”

It doesn’t really make any sense, and it takes Pearl a second to realise that it’s actually three incomplete sentences all merged into one even less complete mess, but once he understands what she’s getting at, he  rushes to get up. Unfortunately one of his legs has fallen asleep, and he doesn’t manage without help from Violet. She pulls him to his feet, and he immediately sags against her. She giggles, popping her shoulder  where he’s resting his head until he raises it to face her. Violet  swipes spit from his chin and traces her fingers on his jawline.

“I love you,” she murmurs, still mostly breathless.

“You mean you love it when I let you fuck my mouth, hm?” Pearl smirks at her lazily.

She laughs and playfully nudges his chest, “Yeah, that.”

“Love you too, pumpkin,” Pearl mumbles and kisses her. She sucks on his lower lip gently before sinking her teeth into it and pulling it teasingly. Pearl growls and pushes his hand between their bodies, taking her cock, still slick with his spit, and stroking it gently. She removes her teeth from his lip and lets out a shattered breath. He presses a couple closed-mouth kisses on her lips, and she licks at his mouth, demanding to be let in. Pearl parts his lips for her and she slides her tongue in, kissing him dirty and good.

“Hated it when you touched Detox,” she moans.

“Hated it when you were grinding against Katya,” Pearl pants back.

“Hate it when someone breathes in your direction,” now her voice is raspy sandpaper dripping in a slick coat of raw desire.

“Love it when you get possessive,” he squeezes her ass, his other hand still working her length.

“Fuck me?” Violet’s intonation goes up toward the end, like she’s asking him, but he knows it’s not really a question.

Pearl places a heated kiss on Violet’s lips and gives her ass another good hard squeeze before reaching into the back pocket of his shorts. She struggles with his belt and the zipper on the front of the garment, her long nails and shaking hands making the task of undressing him almost impossible, but she’s nothing if not the most determined person he knows, and her current focus seems to be freeing his dick, so she manages to unbuckle the belt and unzip the zipper while he fishes out a small pack of lube from his pocket. Violet hooks her fingers under his waistband, her nails scratching his sides, and yanks firmly, removing both the shorts and the red silk panties he’s wearing underneath. Pearl hurries to kick them away and almost falls over, momentarily struggling to find his balance in his stilettos.

“Take your heels off before you break your neck,” Violet tells him.

“Uh-uh,” he says, shaking his head stubbornly.

“You’re drunk,” she moans.

“On love,” Pearl says and slides his thumb over the head of her cock, smearing pre-cum and the remains of quickly drying spit everywhere.

She bucks her hips into his fist and closes her eyes, “You’re a fool.”

“In love,” he adds against the crook of her neck and she groans, but that could also have something to do with him letting go of her cock.

Pearl reaches between his own legs and untucks with almost an animalistic growl. Violet gulps loudly at the sight of his finally freed cock standing against his stomach, and he can’t help but launch at her, rubbing their lengths against each other. The friction and the way Violet swallows his moans off his open mouth feel so right that he sees fucking explosions of bright lights when he bats his eyes shut. The pressure grows in the pit of Pearl’s stomach a little bit more every time he thrusts against Violet, and  when it’s too much to stay there, it starts tiptoeing up his body, tingling and twisting his insides so much he kind of wants to curve into a ball and outstretch all his limbs at the exact same time.

He has to stop and step away before he comes all over her stomach and dress from just humping her like a horny teenager whose sex drive and stamina don’t really match. He rips the bag of lube open with his teeth.

“Can… Can I?” Violet asks him huskily. Pearl shrugs and squeezes the contents of the bag on her palms. She clasps her hands together to warm the lube up, like Pearl hasn’t been incubating the bag against his ass like a fucking mother hen for hours before this, but it’s a lovely gesture and he appreciates it nonetheless. He opens his mouth to say something witty or snarky, but Violet chooses that very moment to wrap both her hands around him, and all that comes out is a filthy noise. She rolls her wrist just the way he loves it while she spreads the lube all over his cock, and he wants to die or come, and definitely be inside of her right that instant.

Pearl grabs Violet’s waist and pushes her back against the wall, sliding her against it as he lifts her. She wraps one of her three-mile-long legs around him, and presses the heel on her other foot flat against the wall behind Pearl’s back in an attempt to anchor them, bless her soul, because Pearl is definitely not steady enough for this level of acrobatics. She throws her arm around his shoulder, and he wraps one of his around her lower back, grabbing the top edge of the stall wall with his other one. Violet snakes her free hand behind her bak to grip his cock and bring it to her entrance.

Pearl pushes upward and inside just a tiny bit, and Violet’s fingers are still wrapped around him, and he’s kind of already inside of her, but not nearly enough, not when he knows he can get so much deeper and closer to her, and she stares into his eyes like she’s trying to trade the brown of hers for the blue of his, and he’s completely, head over heels drawn in, incapable of avoiding her gaze, so he stares back at her and he knows that one day she’ll break him, and she’ll break him hard, and he’ll probably thank her for that politely and beg her to do it all over again, and it’s overwhelming, it’s suffocating to know something like that and still feel this way about someone, so he does the only thing he can think of — he clings to her with all his force and slowly starts pushing into her.

Violet moves her hand from his cock to cup his cheek instead, places her lips upon his and kisses him frantically. Her muscles resist him, like they always do until he passes that certain point and the rest of slide in is effortless. Pearl pushes until he’s fully inside of her, his balls touching her cheeks, and she breaks their kiss to silently gasp for air. She feels so tight and warm around him, the high intensifying the tightness and the pressure he’s feeling around his cock into the state of almost too much, and Pearl has to stay still for a while to prevent himself from coming immediately, but Violet is frozen, too, taking her time to get used to the sensation.

They start moving at the same time. Pearl pulls back, almost completely out of Violet, and then pushes back in just as slowly as before, and she moves to meet his thrusts as much as it is possible hanging in the air, pinned between a drunk and a paper thin wall. Pearl is not sure if it’s the weed, or the alcohol, or the raw, primal emotion that burns inside him like a wildfire every time he as much as thinks of this one of a kind person he’s holding, or if  it’s all or none of those, but the way she’s wrapped around and tangled into him, the way she fills his senses to the point where his head spins, the way she seems to come unravelled as he fucks into her with no rush whatsoever, it’s all so fucking much, and he feels like every single nerve in his body has just casually relocated to his cock and he’s feeling her tight heat around him with all of them simultaneously. He’s feeling risky, so he removes his hand from where it has been clenched over the edge of the wall and closes his fist around Violet’s neglected cock, but she pushes his hand away.

“Don’t,” she moans. “Wanna come on your dick”

Pearl whimpers in response, pressing her even harder against the wall and thrusting just a bit faster. Violet sobs out a cracked _Fuck yes_ at that, so he takes it he hit her prostate, and he aims for the same spot on his next thrust. She keeps sobbing, and spitting out nonsense, like he’s destroying her, but in the best way.

He’s in the middle of licking sweat and perfume off her neck while she’s clawing his shoulder when the suspiciously quiet restroom  stops being suspiciously quiet and becomes ear-piercingly loud. The room is suddenly full of music, and they both freeze, unable to hear anything except for how sorry Justin Bieber is. Then the music stops again, the air still throbbing with the bass, but it’s clear that they’re not alone anymore.

Violet shifts silently.

“Shhhh,” Pearl mumbles into her neck where his face is still buried.

For a moment no one produces any kind of sound whatsoever. Then there’s a clack of heels against the floor, in a male restroom. Pearl detaches his mouth from the crook of Violet’s neck and tilts his head back in frustration, hating his life. Violet lets out a tiny giggle. The steps approach, then stop. Someone pulls the door of their stall. The lock holds, thank fuck. A loud yelp-hiccup leaves Violet’s lips. Pearl clasps his palm on her mouth, but it’s too late.

“Oh, this one’s occupied,” someone says. It’s Katya. “Sorry! So sorry!”

“Just use the fucking urinals,” someone else drawls out. It’s Lasky.

Violet licks Pearl’s palm. He pulls his hand away from her mouth in mock-disgust and thrusts into her to avenge. She has to cover her mouth with her own palm.

“I can’t, I’m fully tucked,” Katya goes on like she wasn’t trying to barge in on one of her fellow competitors balls deep in other of her fellow competitors, which, okay, she didn’t technically know she was about to do, but still, rude. “There’s this thing I do when I need to pee when I’m tucked, but I need, like, a real toilet for that. See what I do…”

She starts explaining how exactly she is gonna pee while tucked. _What the fuck_ , Pearl mouths at Violet. She giggles into her palm.

“I stopped listening before you even started talking,” Alaska informs Katya and Katya cackles, finally managing to find her way to the other of the two stalls and lock herself inside.

Everything’s quite silent for a while. Alaska is humming something under her breath, it sounds like _Everything Tonight_ to Pearl. Katya is peeing one thin wall away from them as Pearl has Violet popped against the one separating the stalls. She’s so close that if she reached over the wall, she’d be able to pat the crown of Violet’s head. She’s so close that if she decided to peek into their stall from the gap between the floor and the wall, she’d be able to see Pearl’s nude pumps. Pearl really hopes Katya is not a peeker. This situation really shouldn’t be hot in any way, this should be a boner killer and not make him harder if that’s even possible, but Pearl knows without looking that Violet’s little public kink is starting to kick in, and the weed has always been the best fucking aphrodisiac for him, and Violet feels just so good around his cock, and she’s moved her hand from her mouth to her own length, stroking herself gently and squirming against him, and fuck if this isn’t the single dumbest thing Pearl’s done tonight, but he rolls his hips. And then he does it again. And again. And again, until Violet is producing little shallow sighs every time he brushes past her prostate.

“Why is this mirror so fucking fogged? I wanna check my makeup,” Alaska says.

Pearl changes his angle a little. Katya flushes the toilet. Violet moans out loud.

“Shush, pumpkin,” Pearl  leans in to whisper. “They’re gonna hear us.”

“Your makeup is terrible,” Katya says. “Do you smell marijuana?”

“Were in the middle of nowhere in Utah, of course I smell marijuana.”

Oh, so they’re in Utah. It’s good to know about two hours before they’re scheduled to leave. Pearl is glad to be on the map again. He joins Violet’s hand and starts stroking in time with her. Violet connects their lips in yet another frantic kiss.

“Speaking of, have you seen Violet? I lost her on the dance floor about thirty minutes ago and haven’t seen her since,” Katya says.

Violet leans back. _Thirty minutes?_ she mouths at Pearl without a sound. _We’ve been here for at least two hours._ Pearl kinda understands why everyone was so scared to lipsync against her on their season. That mouth is magical. And lipsyncing isn’t even the best thing she can do with it.

 _The joint_ , he mouths back.

 _What?_ she shakes her head.

 _The weed, you dumb slut_ , he means he’s too slow to lipsync even to his own prerecorded singing, so what can anyone expect of him?

Violet opens her mouth in a sign of understanding, and he twists his wrist and snaps his hips at the same time. Her expression changes from comprehending to spaced out.

“I saw her getting all cosy with Pearl at the counter some time ago, and haven’t seen either of them ever since,” Alaska says with a drawl. “They probably sneaked into the bus to fuck before Michelle is there to scream about the no kai kai rule.”

Violet smashes her head against Pearl’s shoulder and giggles into his wig. Pearl is having difficulties containing his laughter himself.

“I love how they’re literally the only ones who don’t give a shit about the no kai kai rule Michelle’s so adamant about,” Katya laughs.

“I love how everyone literally knows they’re fucking, and still no one talks about it,” Alaska chuckles.

“I’m still a bit bitter about Pearl getting to tap that,” Katya confesses. “I mean, have you seen Violet’s rear?”

And that’s when the worst possible thing happens. Violet yells into Pearl’s shoulder and throws her head back, her whole body shaking with attacks of silent laughter. She’s having a laughing fit, and there’s nothing that can be done to stop her when she has one of those. Pearl clasps his palm over her mouth again, even though her giggles have so far been inaudible. Violet is trembling, slapping the heel of her palm against Pearl’s shoulder.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” he breathes into her ear like a mantra, but she’s not calming down.

“I mean,” Alaska draws the ‘e’ for a good while. “Have you seen Pearl’s front? That’s kind of a match.”

Multiple things happen at the same time after that. Violet  _actually_ fucking shrieks into Pearl’s palm. Katya lets out a loud wheezing laugh that drowns the rest of the noise. Pearl finally cracks up and hides his face in Violet’s chest to mumble the sound. They have stopped even trying to have sex a good while ago. It’s a full on farce.

“I’m too sober for this shit,” Alaska says over Katya’s sounding like she’s gonna choke. “Can we just fucking leave?”

Katya sounds like she’s trying to breathe deeply to stop cackling. “And what, go to the bus to walk in on Violet and Pearl doing the do? I’m not ready for that kind of unchristian behaviour.”

Violet’s body shakes with another attack of silent laughter. Pearl doesn’t dare lift his face from her chest.

“Wanna have sex?” Katya asks. There’s clacking on the floor again, away from them this time.

“With you? I mean I’d be lying if I said the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, but…” And that’s the last thing they hear before the door opens again and the toilet is filled with music.

They erupt into uncontrollable laughter as soon as they’re alone again. The situation is every bit as ridiculous and absurd as one could imagine: Violet still has one leg and one arm wrapped around Pearl, and he’s still inside of her with his fist closed around her cock, and they’re shaking with gales of laughter, tears in their eyes, gasping for air, unable to stop.

“Did you hear that?” Pearl asks when they manage to calm down a bit. “We’re a match.”

“We’re the perfect match, baby,” Violet says, her eyes slightly narrowed and her voice full of affection.

Pearl leans closer and kisses her forehead, “I love you.” She gasps. He moves his lips to her temple, “I love you.” She squeezes his bicep, sinking her nails into his tattoos. His mouth hovers above her eyes, they flutter closed, and he brushes his lips against her lids, “I love you.” She thrusts her hips into his fist and he starts swaying slowly again, not really pulling out of her but rather moving inside of her, and stroking her. Her mouth falls open, and he kisses the tip of her nose, “I love you.” He kisses both her cheeks, “I love you.” Then he lines his lips up with her still opened mouth. “I love you,” he mumbles against her hot breath.

She grabs his chin and forces his face away from hers, staring into his eyes.

“You’re the one, Pearl,” she whispers. “You’re the only one.”

All that Pearl can do in response is produce a choked out sob and  start fucking into her with new intensity, hoping that it will somehow convey the whole depth  and extent of emotions he’s feeling toward her. Violet tucks on his wrist again, and he leaves her length be, presses their palms together instead and fits his fingers between hers.

Pearl keeps his pace slow and steady, or as steady as he can achieve in his state of being high on her scent and drunk on the way she feels on him. He drives both of them to the very edge just to stop moving and allow them to catch their breath before moving again, teases them until they’re somewhere between needing to come and wanting to last even a tiny bit longer. Violet’s pleas lose their sharpness as she comes apart for Pearl, the demand in her voice replaced by the notes of almost hysterical despair, and with each deep thrust Pearl can’t help but think that he’s but a mere starlet and she is a fucking supernova.

Pearl can feel Violet’s orgasm approach almost as clearly as he can feel his own building up in the pit of his stomach, Her muscles start clenching  around him, and that pumping pressure is what finally makes all of it too much for him to hold it back anymore. He closes his fist around the tip of Violet’s cock in some erratic attempt to still protect her dress, and she’s coming, and he can feel her spasming, and he’s coming, too, and it’s _so_ powerful and the weed and the fact that he’s postponed it with his teasing, and suddenly it’s just shooting through his whole body and his corset is too fucking tight and he can’t get enough air in his lungs and he’s lightheaded on it and her and his orgasm and his cock is twitching, still inside of her, and it almost hurts but it makes him feel so good, and his brain thinks it lasts for minutes but it’s still over all too soon, and he just collapses against her chest and tries to fill his lungs with oxygen.

She moves her leg from around him and falls on her feet gracefully and smoothly like she wasn’t just participating in the most earth-shaking sex ever, like she didn’t just rock his world, like  none of this fazed her the tiniest bit. Pearl flops against the opposite wall and studies her as she hands him some toilet paper to wipe her come off his hand.

“Turn around,” he tells her almost as an afterthought.

Violet does, no hesitation or question in her eyes, and Pearl kneels behind her and places his palms on her cheeks. She gasps when she realises what he’s doing and wiggles her ass teasingly. Pearl snorts and presses her front on the wall before proceeding to lick his own come off of her, cleaning her up like she’s the tastiest piece of ass he’s ever had. Which, frankly, she is. His own taste mixed with her sweat are kinda salty and heavy on his tongue, and it’s kind of very, very hot.

He gets up when Violet is all nice and cleaned up, and she immediately turns around, throwing her hands around him and kissing him.

“We’re kinda good at this, aren’t we?” Pearl says when she finally abandons his mouth for a breath of air.

“At what?” she smirks.

“At this,” he motions with his hand. “At this whole thing. At relationship. At sex. At being together. At love, I guess? I didn’t think we’d be good at it.”

“We’re amazing at sex,” she says and sucks on her thumb, then uses it to wipe his smeared lipstick off his chin. “We’re winning at sex.”

“I don’t think it’s really a competition,” Pearl laughs and draws his index finger against the corners of her mouth, not because she doesn’t look impeccable in his opinion, but because he knows she’d like him to fix her makeup.

“Whatever. We’re still winning.”

He pecks her on the lips,  just a quick contact to not smudge their lipstick again, and leans over under her arm to fish his panties and shorts from the floor.

“There’s one thing we’re shit at, though,” she contemplates above him.

“What’s that?” he says into the floor, reaching for the clothes.

“Keeping us secret.”

He straightens up and she takes a step backward, sliding her dress down. Pearl tries to smash his dick with his panties and hopes to god he can somehow fit it in his shorts without it being too obvious. Violet laughs at the bulge in his pants and he slaps her ass for that.

“I mean, it’s not like we’ve told anyone or done anything too bad in public,” he says, giving up on trying to hide his dick and going back to their conversation.

“They still all know. Alaska and Katya know,” she says. “Fame asked me how long and why didn’t I tell her the other day.”

“Detox knows, too. We haven’t really fooled anyone, have we?”

She laughs and takes his hand before unlocking the door and dragging him out of the stall, “Whatever. Maybe we just let them know.”

Perl stares at the back of her head as she leads him out of the restroom as determined as ever. It’s not really the first time going public has come up, but they’ve always just dismissed it, laughed about it, and reminded each other that they don’t really need to let anyone in, that they’re perfectly happy just like they are. This is the first time Violet has actually sounded serious when saying shit like that.

She navigates them out of the club and the fresh night air is oddly sobering against Pearl’s skin.

“Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow, when we’re, you know, sober?” he says, stopping.

She turns around and looks at him, “Sure. But it’s not like I’m gonna wake up and suddenly feel differently about you.”

Pearl just reaches into his back pocket for the pack of cigarettes and lights one up, not knowing what to say.

“The bus?” Violet says.

He nods and gives her a head start of two or so steps before following her, gaze fixed on her ass.

She sways her hips a little bit more than usual as she walks, like she knows he’s watching.

**Author's Note:**

> My favourite thing is when you come ans scream at me about my works or Pearlet, so my ask box is always open!! Come say hi to me om rbcch.tumblr.com !


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